


And The Mighty Fall...On Their Face

by GaHoolianGirl



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: A.k.a my Warden sticks his foot in his mouth, Gen, M/M, repeatedly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaHoolianGirl/pseuds/GaHoolianGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of little snippets of Gideon Cousland making an ass of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Momma Mia!

**Author's Note:**

> I have portrayed my Warden positively in many of my other fics, so I decided he needed a little taste of humble pie. This whole thing was actually inspired by the first one, actually. This isn't meant to be taken 100% seriously, though there are serious aspects to it.

"Ah, if you could, please, wait a moment..." the wisen mage huffed, her pace lagging behind the rest of the group. She was generally spry enough to keep up, but upon occasion her age caught up to her. He leaned over, hands on her knees.

Gideon smiled pityingly at her, and nodded. "Of course, Mother."

The entire party paused.

"Mother?" Leliana chanced to say. Zevran snickered behind her, quickly covering himself with a faux cough.

"W-Wha...did I say...I mean..."

Wynne chuckled, having caught her second wind. She caught up with them, and gently pat the man's arm, "You have recently lost your mother. I do not blame you for projecting onto me, the nearest to her in age."

"And kindness," he replied in a small voice, with a small smile. She returned it, and they continued their walk.

"So...dearest Mother Wynne...may I ask who is our father?"

If only old age prevented her from "gently" whacking the elf with her staff.•


	2. Keeps Your Eyes to the Rear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my intial two ideas for this work. I just thought this would be funny.

“You are enamoured of Zevran,” Leliana teased the noble, “or at least, his behind.”

He gave her a half-hearted glare, his cheeks a light pink.

“No I’m not.”

“You very much are,” she said, her voice light. He grumbled. _Becoming friends with the bard was a mistake,_ he thought about his very best friend.

...She was right, of course. He happened to throwing a glance - **A BRIEF GLANCE** \- at the Antivan’s rump. He stalked off to Zevran, calming down as he walked.

“Zevran,” he said, and the elf turned to him, “I have to ass you somethin-”

He stopped mid-step, desperately wishing for some darkspawn to tunnel through the ground and eat him then and there. Anything was better than Zevran’s and Leliana’s smirks. Or Alistair’s snorting. Or Morrigan’s loud chuckle from across camp. Or Wynne’s tittering. Or...anything at that moment in time, truly.

“You know what nevermind I’ll see you tomorrow goodnight,” he rushed off to his tent, redder than he had ever been. He flopped down on his furs, which were not enough to drown out an Orlesian accented, “I told you so!”•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bit me in the ass with my other collection piece, but if anyone has any suggestions, let me know!


	3. Stick In The Mud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't be cocky, Mr.Grey Warden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a silly thing, since the foreign characters like to point out the country's mud.

“You are truly sure that we can travel in these conditions?” Zevran said, looking up at the quickly greying sky with concern.

“You just don’t like the cold,” Gideon said teasingly.

“I compensate for the cold with a shared bed,” he smirked and Gideon blushed; Wynne groaned and Shale wasn’t listening, “however, my concern is the rain and Ferelden’s penchant for mud.”

“I’ve traveled through worse things than this!” the Warden assured. The elf simply shrugged, but he took noticable care in where he stepped.

Their commander did not.

The rain started to come down on them pretty heavily when they were about a quarter of the way aways from their destination. They first had little difficulty.

“See, what did I- **_AUGH_** -”

The noble of Ferelden, and Grey Warden, fell flat onto his face in deep and pungent Ferelden mud. “Maker’s Breath what-”

He awkwardly craned his body around the look at his feet. His chainmail boots had gotten stuck in the mud from the material being too heavy. Zevran was too light footed and Wynne didn’t weigh very much, so they were free. And Shale...

“How are you not stuck!?”

“Unlike the Grey Warden, I know how to pick up my feet when walking.”

Fighting the strong temptation of smooshing his face back into the mud, he fruitlessly attempted to struggle free, each tug sinking him deeper in the ground. After a pathetic minute or so, he felt himself being lifted and his feet releasing with a _schlorp_. He turned his head to see himself being gripped by the collar by Shale, whose stone face held a hint of amusement.

She placed him down and he just stood there for a moment, covered in mud and shame.

“If you have seen worse, my dear Warden, then I truly pity you Fereldans.”

He angrily ignored the elf and started marching ahead, shaking mud of out his boots and taking extra care where he stepped.•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am starting to like my Warden as a total dork.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo?


End file.
